


Agents of OCTOPATH

by knightofsuperior



Category: Project Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Being Therion is Suffering, The Travelers are now Buddy Cops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-11 07:56:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15310962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofsuperior/pseuds/knightofsuperior
Summary: United by chance and curiosity, an uncommon fate ties together four travelers as they are roped into serving as Orsterra's first organized special missions squad.Therion has his work cut out for him.





	1. Gone Horribly Right

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in love with Octopath Traveler, and while this started as a jokey fic, I somehow wound up writing an AU. This should be interesting. Keep in mind that I've far from beaten the game, so things are liable to go way off canon, but that's the name of the game with fics. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, I gave the bartender a name.

“You brought a priestess to a heist?!”

The thief scowled. “Technically, she brought herself.”

Heathcote was beside himself. Lady Ravus had told her to keep an eye out, as usual, for any intruders. Lo and behold, one finally managed to make it past the guards and traps, so of course he was going to go see.

The only thing he didn’t expect was the entourage.

“And what of the merchant, and the...erm...magician?”

“Scholar, thank you,” the dark-haired man replied, his pen-hand scribbling furiously in a leatherbound book. “It’s Cyrus, by the way. Don’t mind me, though, I’m just taking some notes.”

“I always wanted to see inside a mansion!” The merchant girl exclaimed, cheer evident on her face despite the fact that she was participating in a home invasion. “It’s so pretty!”

The priestess sighed, glancing over to Heathcote as he gawked in utter confusion. “I’m only here because I tried to stop them, sir. I don’t know why they were so enamored with this thief-”

“It must be my winning personality,” the thief muttered.

“-but I hoped to turn them back and continue on our journeys. Before I knew it, we were down here.” She bowed deeply, almost horizontal to the ground-as if to emphasize just how sorry she was. “Please, forgive us for this transgression. As a loyal servant of the Flame, I should not have allowed it to get this far.”

Heathcote cleared his throat, hoping to regain some ground in this...well, the best word he could think for it was “mess,” but he had far less polite ways to put it. “I understand that, my lady, but breaking and entering is a serious offense. That being said, I am impressed you made it all the way down here. Only the most cunning of-”

“Is that for sale?” The merchant girl asked, pointing towards the glittering sapphire off to the side.

The thief rolled his eyes. “If it was, we wouldn’t be stealing it.”

“No, Therion, you’re stealing it,” the scholar mused. “I’m investigating, Ophilia is having a heart attack-” At this, Heathcote glanced over to the priestess, who returned a thousand yard stare in the direction of her compatriots, “-and Tressa is…”

“Wondering if that’s for sale.”

Heathcote frowned. “It isn’t.”

“Aw.” The girl looked crestfallen, again, in the middle of a home invasion.

The priestess-Ophilia, apparently- had returned upright-a bit too upright, actually, as she was staring towards the ceiling. “Oh Flame, bringer of light, keeper of the scales of Justice, please forgive these lost souls on their way to salvation, for they are led astray-”

At this, Heathcote turned to face Therion. “Not much of a team you have there. Your friends seem...less than experienced in the art of thievery.”

“Team is a strong word. So is friend.” Therion put a hand to his forehead, letting out a haggard sigh. “Look, Jeeves-”

“Heathcote.”

“- _Jeeves,_ I’ve had a long day. I just want to get my treasure, get my bragging rights, and go home.” He held out a hand, almost pleading-but not quite. “Can you just let me have this? I’ll drag the peanut gallery out by the collar once I’m done here.”

Heathcote was nearly tempted. Alas, he had his orders, and his duty. “I’m afraid that I can’t-as a butler of the House Ravus, I am honorbound to protect that treasure.”

“Fascinating,” Cyrus exclaimed, “Truly so! How old is that treasure?”

Heathcote blinked. “...hundreds of years old?”

“And what of its name?”

“It’s a dr-wait, why should I be telling you this?”

“...because I asked?” Cyrus replied, innocently.

“It’s good to know its history so we know how much to appraise it for,” Tressa noted.

Heathcote fumed. “I told you, it’s not for sale!”

“Good, cause we’re stealing it,” Therion said as he began to pocket the stone.

How in the hell-

Ophilia, like a bolt from the blue, appeared behind Therion and snatched the stone away. “No, we are not!” Ignoring Therion’s confused sputters, Ophilia handed the stone back directly to Heathcote. “My sincerest apologies. Tressa, Cyrus, we’re leaving.”

“But there’s so much more to learn,” Cyrus moaned.

“But there’s so much we could earn,” Tressa echoed.

Ophilia wheeled around, a fury in her eyes. “I will not have the Kindling-or your lives-be prematurely ended just because you two were curious about the goings-on of some...common crook!”

“Hey, I am far from common!” Therion protested. “I made it down here, didn’t I?”

Ophilia growled, a somewhat uncommon sight from a woman of the cloth. Then again, everything about these people seemed uncommon to Heathcote. “After I kept you from being burned alive, and then frozen alive, and then stabbed by every guard in this Flame-forsaken house!”

“So,” Cyrus cut in, “About the house-what material is it made out of?”

“Looks like some kind of tile for the floors, marble for the support structures, and a plaster for the walls,” Tressa replied, tapping her foot on a piece of flooring. “Same kind that they sell in Rippletide for the well-to-do. I’d recognize that kind of cut anywhere.”

“...you recognized it instantly,” Heathcote breathed, staring at the same tile in shock. “How did you-”

“It can’t have been built any longer than a couple hundred years ago, at the least.” Cyrus’s pen moved like a blur, pages flipping as if they were being pushed by hurricane-force winds. “The marble trade in Rippletide only started about three hundred years ago, when it became easier to ship thanks to the tariffs on building materials being scrapped in favor of that new-well, at the time-trade deal.”

“...how do you know-”

“Scholar.”

Heathcote considered this for a moment.

On the one hand, he could have the guards here in an instant. He could slap the fool’s bangle on each of them, and be done with it.

On the other...it would be a shame to let such…”knowledgeable” fellows go to waste.

And with someone as determined as that priestess with them…

...and someone as cunning as the thief...

Heathcote turned to Therion with a grin.

Therion didn’t like the look of that grin at all.

* * *

Alastor, in the middle of one of the few down-times he had as a bartender in this damned town, jumped as he heard his door slam open. The thief from the other day-Therion, if he recalled-was standing at the door, looking worse for wear. He slunk his way in, trailed by three others chattering excitedly behind him. Therion walked up to the bar, slamming his hands on the countertop as soon as he arrived.

Alastor paled. “W-what can I get for you?”

“The hardest thing you have.”

“...did...you go to the Ravus Manor?” The bartender asked as he began to pour a drink. He glanced at the thief’s arm-no bangle, so if he did go, he must have been damn lucky. Or left early. Or-

“You’re looking at the newest lapdog of Lady Ravus,” Therion sighed. “No thanks to those three,” he added, gesturing with his thumb towards his companions. “I think I would’ve rather been thrown in jail.”

“I...don’t quite follow,” Alastor admitted. To this, the criminal dug into his coat, pulling out a piece of paper adorned with the House Ravus seal. He handed it to the bartender, who quickly opened it up.

**_To whom it may concern:_ **

**_This letter signifies that its recipient, Mr. Therion (currently of Bolderfall), is authorized by House Ravus (represented here by Lady Ravus) to conduct criminal investigations and seizures related to an ongoing theft investigation by said House. This letter also hereby deputizes Mr. Therion as Captain of the Orsterra Criminal Tracking Organization for the Protection of All Territories Herein. Please defer to his authority in all matters regarding investigation into the House Ravus “Dragonstones,” and all related situations besides._ **

“...what in the hells?” Alastor muttered. He thought Heathcote was hiring thieves to be thieves, not turning them into...whatever this was.

The thief sighed. “Basically, I’m a constable now. And these three...”

“...are your deputies,” the bartender finished. “Seems like a mighty fine promotion if you ask me. How’d this happen?”

“The Ravuses pulled some strings, got in touch with all the major cities throughout this godsforsaken continent.” Therion shoved the letter back into his cloak, which looked far less shabby than the last time he was here, the bartender realized. In fact, he and his little team all seemed to be wearing snazzy clothes with matching black-and-white colors, not to mention shiny badges affixed somewhere on their persons (four solid-color spheres, on a plate of solid bronze). “Convinced them that the thieves that took their precious stones could easily turn their attentions to other targets. That, plus a little...monetary encouragement, convinced them to set up this…” Therion frowned. “They call it a “task force,” but I know a goon squad when I see one. I would’ve said no, but it was either that, or spend my life behind bars. As much as I joke...” He clenched his fist, anger more than evident on his face. “I’m not going back to that.”

“Seems like things didn’t go according to plan, for either you or the lady of the house.”

“Yeah, and somehow she still came out with the win.” When the drink finally hit the table, Therion guzzled it down like he was a desert-dweller at an oasis. While Therion drank, Alastor took in the other three, all happily chattering about something-or-other. They didn’t really seem like a thief’s personal choice in friends, but…

“...maybe they’ll grow on ya,” he said out loud to Therion. “Never hurts to have people you can trust, right?”

“I don’t trust them as far as I can throw them. As far as I’m concerned, they’re just...business partners.”

“Right, o’course.” Alastor raised an eyebrow as Therion dropped a pile of coins on the table. “You know, you only had the one-”

“It’s for them. They want...” Therion looked like he was about to choke on his next words. “One glass of water, one bottle of red wine, and something fizzy but non-alcoholic.”

“...sure, comin’ right up.” Alastor went to work on getting the drinks, leaving Therion to contemplate just where his life went wrong.

Letting the random weirdos he met come along for the heist?

Not that..

Deciding to go to the Ravus Manor?

Nah.

Becoming a thief?

Nope.

As he watched his new...teammates make their preparations for their first days of traveling as a part of OCTOPATH, he decided that things went wrong right around the time he was conceived.

It was the only logical explanation.


	2. Pecking Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therion and co. take a trip to Clearbrook. Therion gets a taste of authoritative power.

Therion wasn’t used to authority.

Sure, he was familiar with the concept. He was a thief. What else was there to do besides buck any and all authority he came across?

But being an authority?

That was something  _ entirely  _ different.

Being in charge meant keeping order, civility, peace even.

It meant putting your foot down, and calling the shots.

It meant that he shouldn’t be the one carrying all the damn supplies, what in _ all the  _ **_actual Flameforsaken hells-_ **

“Tressa!” Therion snapped, coming to a sudden halt. The merchant stumbled a bit at her spot in the formation, right behind the scholar. She quickly poked her head out from over Cyrus’s shoulder, clearly standing on her toes to do so.

“Yeah? What’s the matter?”

_ She should be amending a “sir” to that _ , Therion thought,  _ but...priorities. _ “What am I doing right now?”

“...carrying our stuff?” Tressa asked.

“Right. Now, what’s my position?”

“Hunched over?” Cyrus offered.

_ Again, no “sir.” _ “My  **_job,_ ** Cyrus.”

“Oh,” Ophilia exclaimed, waving her hand. “I know!”

“You don’t have to raise your hand to answer,” Therion growled through gritted teeth.

Ophilia’s hand dropped like a stone. “R-right. Well, you’re the Captain, correct? Um, Sir?”

“Finally,” Therion muttered.  “So, as Captain, that places me pretty high on the pecking order. Right?”

Tressa nodded. “Well, yeah. It’s kind of how that works.”

“...so, that begs the question.” He spun around, the comically large sack on his back shaking as its contents shifted back and forth. “Why am I the one lugging your damn backpack around?!”

“Oh, that’s easy!” Tressa exclaimed. “As the Captain, you have full authority and responsibility over the well-being and safety of our supplies. As such, you’re the best person to hold onto it!”

Therion’s gaze could pierce solid marble at this moment.

“...aaaaaaaand it’s in the contract from Lady Ravus,” Tressa admitted. “I thought it was kind of weird, but she said you’d be able to handle it with no problem.”

Cyrus nodded. “To be fair, though, I do see how this can be a problem. Having all our supplies on one person may be a bit too…” He grimaced, watching Therion struggle to stay still for even the shortest period of time. “...strenuous, shall we say.”

“Perhaps we could share the load?” Ophilia offered. “After all, if we can separate things between our bags and make sure all the important materials stay with the Captain, while holding onto our own specific-”

“Share bag space, great idea, you’re promoted to Vice-Captain,” Therion quickly cut in. Ignoring Ophilia’s excited gasp, he continued,  “How much space do each of you have to spare?”

“...I’m all full,” Tressa admitted. “I may have bought a little too much off the Bolderfall folk.”

“Yes, I was curious as to what exactly you needed that humongous figurine of that masked hero for,” Cyrus admitted. “But I presume you have some plan to sell it at a fine profit eventually.”

“...yeah, of course,” Tressa said, after a moment.

Cyrus turned to Therion. “I’m afraid I’m at maximum capacity as well. I haven’t had time to send back some of my tomes to the library in Atlasdam, unfortunately, so…”

“Great. Just what I wanted to hear.” Therion glanced at Ophilia. “And what about you?” 

“Well, if I take out my lantern with the Flame…” Ophilia frowned. “I am worried about what might happen if a monster attacks, however. But, if I must.”

As she began to shuffle through her bag, Therion noticed a sign nearby. Waddling over, ignoring the snickers Tressa left in his wake, he scrutinized the wooden stake. “...change of plans. We’re going to unload, store what we don’t need, and get some new bags while we’re at it.”

“Unload?” Cyrus asked, raising an eyebrow. “Right here? Seems a tad dangerous to me, Captain.”

“Not here, genius. We’re close to Clearbrook. If Lady Ravus was telling the truth, the merchants here should know we’ll be passing through.” Therion shuffled the pack, steeling himself. “It’s a short walk away. We’ll go in, get out. No slacking, no wasting time. I want us back on the road before sunset.”

Ophilia nodded. “That sounds like a good idea. Additionally, we may want to see if there are any leads on the Dragonstones in town-someplace small and quaint like Clearbrook would likely be a place where a thief might rest their legs. Someone has to know something.”

“A wonderful idea,” Cyrus agreed. “Excellent thinking.”

Tressa grinned. “Look at you, Vice-Captain! Earning your title already?” Sliding past Cyrus, the merchant gave Ophilia a pat on the back. “See, this is why you call the shots.”

Ophilia smiled for a brief moment, before returning her attention to Therion. “Actually, we should be thanking the-”

Therion was already halfway down the road, Tressa’s wares comically klinking and jingling with each step he took.

“-Captain,” Ophilia quietly mumbled.

“...was it something we said?” Cyrus asked.

 

* * *

 

“Thank you for your patronage!” The shopkeep called as Therion exited. He sighed, glancing at his money sack. This was just plain insulting-a thief, paying a shopkeep with a wage he earned from some hoity-toity well-to-do. He could have lifted the whole store off the ground from its foundations, and he was 100% sure that the shopkeep wouldn’t have noticed a thing.

This was going to take some getting used to.

The local kids were already staring at him; carrying around a now half-emptied backpack with a set of three other giant sacks daisy-chained around the original. While he would have liked to just pass the damn things off to his “subordinates,” the three had decided to explore the town for a spell. 

What part of “in and out before sunset” was so difficult to comprehend?

Therion began making his way towards the inn, ready to reserve a few rooms. After all, he knew better than to trust the others to actually understand the concept of time, so precautions didn’t hurt. Just as he was about to do so, however, he made the unfortunate choice of walking near a small house in the middle of town.

Specifically, he walked by the door.

Which, at that point, proceeded to open in his face.

“Alright! Looks like I’m goin’ snake hunting,” a voice exclaimed, oblivious to the blunt-force trauma they had just caused. A pair of boots came into Therion’s limited field of view. “Time to-”

The boots’ owner, a young man with a frazzled hairstyle and a very shocked look on his face, quickly scrambled to Therion’s side. “Aw, shucks, are you alright?! I didn’t see you there!”

“That much is obvious,” Therion groaned, rubbing his (thankfully unbroken) nose, trying to ignore his sudden headache. “Ever consider installing a window on that thing, maybe?”

The man chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “I mean, I sure as heck am now.” The man extended a hand. “Name’s Alfyn. And your’s?” 

“Th-” Therion coughed, clearing his throat. He had to be “professional” nowadays.

Joy.

“Captain Therion, of the Orsterra Criminal Tracking-”

“A Captain! Wow, in our little town,” Alfyn interjected, glee on his face. “Pretty far from the ocean, ain’t ya?”

“...I’m in law enforcement,” Therion clarified. “As in, I find and arrest people.”

Alfyn blinked. “Oh, gotcha. So, no boats.”

“None.”

“Huh. Still, on behalf of our humble little town, welcome to Clearbrook.” Alfyn quickly shuffled past Therion, heading to the opposite end of town. “Sorry, can’t stick around to chat, Captain! I got a snake to wrangle!”

_...did he just...slam a door in my face...and run? _

_...that counts as aggravated assault, right? _

Therion grinned.

Maybe today would work out better than he thought.


	3. Why Did It Have To Be Snakes?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therion's no-good day gets slightly worse, then better, and then worse again. Alfyn's having a grand old time.

This had not worked out better than Therion had thought.

In fact, it could well be argued that things had gotten worse over the course of the past two hours.

While he had attempted to arrest the apothecary for assault on an officer of the law-more out of just needing to get some kind of win, after what he had to put up with today-Therion quickly found himself on the receiving end of a sob story that even he couldn’t make up.

Dead parents, beloved friends, a snake bite, a desperate race against time for a cure.

Therion had heard similar tall tales in the past (he’d even spun a few himself), but he was damned if the healer wasn’t earnest in his story. Perhaps out of pity, or perhaps out of curiosity, Therion decided to tag along on the man’s quest in the nearby caves. “We’ll be in and out before you know it,” Alfyn had said, chumming up to Therion like he was some kind of old friend. “While the snake might be a bit testy, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

By “figure something out,” Alfyn had apparently meant **_fight a giant viper to take one of its teeth._ **

“I thought you said these snakes were small!” Therion roared, leaping out of the way of the creature’s jaws. “‘Oh, don’t you worry none, this critter’ll be a cinch!’” he continued, mimicking Alfyn’s drawl. “What happened to **_that?!_ ** ”

“Well, yeah, most of ‘em are!” Alfyn replied, mixing something up in a stone bowl. Therion’s nose crinkled at the smell it gave off.  “But those ones were probably just one or two years old. This one’s probably a good...five years old? Snakes can grow a lot in that time.” Grabbing the mixture he created from the bowl, Alfyn hurled it at the viper, screaming “Duck!”

Therion dropped to the ground as the mixture hit the viper. A loud explosion erupted, hurtling the snake back. A surge of heat and flame followed the eruption, Therion’s hair just barely escaping unburnt. Alfyn let out an impressed whistle. “Wow! Surprised that worked. I gotta write that recipe down!”

Loathe as he was to say it, for the briefest of moments, Therion wished he’d brought the others along for the fight.

Then he actually thought of how that would go.

Cyrus would be listing off trivia about the snake from one of his books, and probably wouldn’t notice if it took a chunk out of his leg during the process.

Tressa would be trying to see how much its hide would be worth, or if she could keep it as a pet, while Therion tried to keep her alive.

Ophilia...would she pray at it? She would probably pray at it, or at the team to stay alive.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t really seen any of them in battle yet.

He’d be lucky to live that long at this rate.

“How much more do you think it’s gonna take?” Therion asked as the snake picked itself up.

“Can’t say for sure-maybe a few more good hits?”

Therion sighed. This was going to be a longer day than he thought.

 

* * *

 

“You fought a giant snake without us!?” Tressa complained, holding a hand above her head as if she were about to faint. “O captain, my captain, how could you leave us behind?!”

“I’m sorry, which of us ran off in the direction of the nearest sale the instant we walked into town?” Therion asked, rolling his eyes. He fixed his gaze on Cyrus and Ophilia, adding, “You two seemed keen with your own little escapades.”

“In my defense, I wanted to peruse some tomes on the history of Clearbrook, so that we may best make our reports to the council,” Cyrus claimed.

“Sure, Cy, that’s why you were reading all about the history of the Clearbrook salmon,” Tressa teased.

“...it’s a fascinating species. Did you know that their color changes depending on what stream they end up following? For instance, if one swims from Clearbrook in the direction of Atlasdam, it will turn a lovely gold sheen due to the specific minerals in the water!”

“Really?!” Tressa grinned, rubbing her hands together. “Remind me the next time we’re in the area.”

Therion, despite himself, made a mental note of that as well.

Ophilia, at least, had the decency to look apologetic. “I wanted to make sure that these two didn’t get into any trouble, and I wanted to speak with the local clergyman about what to expect when we arrive at my next destination for the pilgrimage. And…” She glanced off to the side, mumbling something under her breath.

“...care to repeat that?” Therion asked.

“...I...wanted to sit by the river, for a while.” Ophilia tapped her staff nervously as she continued. “I’ve never really had a chance to just...sit in the sunlight, enjoying the open air. Flamesgrace was far too cold for that, and Bolder-”

“You don’t have to justify it to me,” Therion sighed. “Just...let me know the next time you need a break, alright? Same goes for you two,” he said, turning back to Therion and Tressa. “When I say we’re taking a supply break, that’s not the same thing. We’ll discuss that later, though. Since you decided to spend so much time in town yesterday, I take it at least one of you asked about the Dragonstones?”

Tressa paled.

Cyrus shook his head.

“I apologize, but even those knowledgeable in fine gemstones seemed to be unaware,” Ophilia replied.

Therion ran a hand through his hair. “Of course. Well, if you didn’t find anything out then, we’re not going to have much luck now.”

“Hopin’ you don’t mind my askin’, friend, but would you happen to be talkin’ about a big red stone?” a voice piped up. “I mighta seen somethin’ like that.”

_Oh, Flame, please no._

Slowly, Therion turned around to face the source of the voice.

A doofy grin faced him in return.

“Hello, Alfyn,” Therion muttered. “You’ve seen one of those stones?”

Alfyn nodded, waving a quick hello to the three behind Therion. “Yup! I sure wouldn’t forget it! Big, round, red as a glass of fine wine-some guy in a cloak came ‘round a few days back with it. Hid it away when I asked about it, said it was “business matters” or somethin’. Sounded like he was headed towards Sunshade, considerin’ he went out the opposite end of town.”

“Well, thank you for your testimony,” Therion quickly said. “We’ll be on our way then-”

“Now hold on, Captain,” Tressa cut in. “You know this guy?”

“Yes, we met yesterday, now let’s just-”

“Aw, no need to be shy, Cap!” Alfyn slapped Therion on the back lightly, grinning as wide as possible. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been able to save Nina! I owe you one for that.”

“Look, it’s fine,” Therion insisted, trying to avoid the scrying eyes of the other three. All he’d told them was that he fought a snake; they didn’t need to know anything more. “Did you need anything else?”

“Well, now that you mention it…” Alfyn tugged at a satchel he carried on his arm; it definitely wasn’t there yesterday, which triggered all sorts of alarm bells in Therion’s head. “What happened yesterday made me realize that I can’t just stay here. I need to go out and help people, however I can. And since you’re an officer and all-”

_No._

“-I take it you’ll be getting into quite a few scrapes-”

_Please don’t say it._

“-so, I was wonderin’ if you needed a little help!” Alfyn lightly tapped his satchel, continuing, “I’ve got quite a few concoctions I can whip up to take down any criminal that tries to escape the righteous arm of the law-and heal you up, for sure. It’s the least I can do after you helped me out-and I feel kinda bad about the whole door thing.”

“Door thing?” Cyrus whispered.

“Is that why the captain’s nose looks red today?” Tressa asked.

Therion sighed, rubbing his temples. He did not need to deal with this right now.

Mustering all his calm, he took a deep breath, and-

“Of course!” He heard a voice not his own reply. Ophilia had stepped forward, bowing her head towards Alfyn. “We’re honored that you would offer your assistance. The Flame surely smiles upon our meeting. As Vice Captain of this squad, I would gladly accept your request-however, it is up to our captain in the end.” She raised her head, eyes focused on Therion. “What do you say?”

Therion considered this. Sure, Ophilia was eager to have another join the cause, surely because it took some of the load off of her as it applied to healing duties ( _or, maybe she was just that generous_ , a treacherous part of his brain suggested). But Tressa and Cyrus, as simple as they could be sometimes, had to have some common sense. It didn’t take a genius to realize that taking some country boy on a globetrotting hunt for mysterious thieves was the worst possible idea at the moment.

“...let’s put it to a vote,” Therion replied cooly. “All in favor of Alfyn joining OCTOPATH?”

That day, as Alfyn cheerily regaled his new partners with stories about his life in Clearbrook, Therion learned that both fate and the democratic method were  **_absolutely_ ** rigged against him.


	4. Rivers in the Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gang get a bite to eat, meet a not-waitress, and find their mark.

 

Primrose Azelhart was accustomed to the occasional visit by law enforcement officials to the town of Sunshade. Why wouldn’t she be? Her “Master” Helgenish’s activities, particularly those involving the dancers he acquired, did not exist in a vacuum. Officials from across the continent frequented Sunshade to speak with Helgenish. Some left after being paid off with handsome bribes. Others took a more personal interest in his business and “wares.” Primrose had come to know the various uniforms of the different governments of Orsterra, inside and out.

That is, until the party of five entered the tavern.

They had to either be some kind of authority or the gaudiest theater troupe she’d seen in a long while.

Violet dress shirts, adorned with a mint green trim along the sides, paired with sharp navy pants. Black dress shoes completed the general ensemble, but it appeared that each particular member of the group had their own flair to the look in some way (a feathered cap here, a bright red cloak there, and so on). The only one not dressed up was a younger man in casual wear, but he seemed chummy enough with the others.

Primrose didn’t recognize the strange, almost octopus-like badge that adorned their uniforms, however. They must be a relatively new unit; perhaps from one of the seaside towns like Rippletide.

It was no matter, though. No doubt Helginish had them in the palm of his hand, and they were no better than the rest of them.

At least, that’s what she presumed, until she heard one of them speak.

 

* * *

 

“This is one swanky place!” Alfyn tapped at his glass of water, grinning at the melodic hum the glass gave off. He glanced down at his meal, a luxurious steak smothered in sauce.  “I may be a simple Clearbrook boy, but I know high-class dining when I see it.”

“Whoever owns this place must be rich,” Tressa added, her eyes scanning the room as she stabbed at her fish dinner. “All this drapery, the tables, the stage-it must cost a fortune!”

“Indeed. It reminds me of one of my old lecture halls in Atlasdam,” Cyrus mused. “Though I take it few are students here in anything but the art of holding their liquor-” He paused as a loud slam erupted from a nearby table. Some poor soul was passed out, drunk as could be, face-down on the table. “-if that, frankly.”

Therion felt his fingers twitch; the urge to just up and lift something from someone-anyone-was strong today. Tressa was right-this was an oasis in the Gods-forsaken desert. Rich layabouts with more money than they needed, blabbering on about tossing it at the feet of the next dancer they saw, spending every last coin on booze and food…

Would it be so much of a crime to just snatch one, maybe two purses worth? 

Sure, he knew that would jeopardize everything, and that he’d be tossed in the nearest cell to rot, but...did they really need it?

“Therion, no.” Therion scowled, tilting his head slightly towards Ophilia. The priestess had taken to being his keeper as of late; any time he so much as blinked at a passerby’s coin purse on the path, she would shoot him a glare fierce enough to pierce even the toughest hearts. 

Of course, it would never work on him-not in the slightest.

He just...didn’t want to deal with seeing it often, that’s all.

“No what, o Vice Captain?” Therion asked, trying his hardest to hide the venom in his tone. “I’m merely taking in the ambiance.”

“Perhaps your attention should be focused on your meal instead, Captain,” Ophilia replied coolly. “After all, what could possibly be more interesting than such a delectable feast inside of that man’s pockets?”

“Theriooooooon,” Tressa warned, her voice muffled, “We talked about this! You’re an officer now! Thieving is bad. B-A-D.”

“Wait, you were a thief?” Alfyn asked, eyebrow raised. “All you told me was that you "got hired for this gig." No offense meant if it’s personal, but I didn’t really take you for one at first glance.”

Therion let out an annoyed huff. “1. I’m not taking etiquette lessons from someone talking with their mouth full.” Tressa swallowed her bite, quickly returning to her plate to scarf down some more. “2., you and the bookworm literally followed me into a home invasion because you were curious about the home I was invading. You don’t have a right to talk.” 

Cyrus pretended not to hear Therion, instead choosing to take a long, long sip of his wine.

“3.,” he continued, turning to Alfyn, “That’s the point of being a thief. If you’re noticed, you’re dead.”

“But that’s all behind you now, right?” Ophilia asked, a slightly smug grin on her face. “We are all following the righteous path of the Flame now. If we’re stealing anything, it’s victory from the jaws of evil and cruelty.”

“Been meaning to ask about that, actually,” Alfyn put down his silverware, leaning in close. His voice fell into conspiratorial whispers. “Now, I get how you got this whole squad goin’-but what I don’t get is why this Heathcote fella and the Lady didn’t just hire his own team to get the stones back.”

“I’ll admit, it is rather curious.” Cyrus placed down his wine, reaching into his sack with his free hand. “I’m also having difficulty finding out anything about the stones in any of my on-hand resources. I’m afraid we’d have to return to Atlasdam if we were to peruse the royal libraries, and...well.” He turned away. “Let’s just say it may be better for us to do our own research at this point and leave it at that.”

“It could be as simple as finances and circumstance.” The table’s attention turned to Tressa, who was absentmindedly flipping a carrot slice up and down with her fork. “What’s more expensive? Hiring a team of highly-trained professionals with their own wants and desires, spending lots of money with the hopes that they’ll stay true to their word, or bringing in complete nobodies with specialized skills and managing to spin that into political favor, saving you capital and manpower while you hold all the cards?”

“...how the hell did you come up with that theory?” Therion asked incredulously.

“...I, uh.” An embarrassed look came over Tressa’s face. “...I may have read it in one of my dad’s mystery novels. He had a whole collection of them back in Rippletide. But it sounds like it could be the case, right?”

Ophilia nodded. “It’s a possibility. I’d like to believe Heathcote and Lady Ravus saw the potential in all of us to do great things, like we have with you, Alfyn.”

“Aw, shucks.” Alfyn scratched his chin, grinning sheepishly. “You really think so?”

Therion stayed quiet for the moment, pondering Tressa’s words. Were they really just in the right place at the right time? 

It felt too clean for his tastes.

But what if that’s because it was just that clean?

Nothing in the world was ever that simple, but…

Therion let out a near-inaudible growl. None of that mattered right now. They were here on Alfyn’s tip about the man in the cloak, not some vacation. If he wasn’t distracted by this whole damn discussion, or the food that he kept forgetting to eat, maybe they’d already have one of the stupid Dragonstones, and they’d be out of this stupid town, and one more step closer to being done with this stupid-

“-tain? Erm, Therion?” 

Therion snapped back to attention. “What’s up?”

Cyrus’ face betrayed his worry, along with his staring off past the table. “I believe we are being watched.” 

Therion followed the scholar’s gaze to a dancer dressed in red, who appeared to be staring back at them. She had a solemn, intense glare, much more suited to a deadly assassin than a simple dancer. In the blink of an eye, it vanished, replaced with a more sultry facade. The woman sauntered over to the table, stopping a short distance before the group. “And how are we enjoying our meals tonight?”

“Soooooooo good,” Tressa groaned, leaning back in her chair. “I feel full, and I haven’t even had more than one plate’s worth!”

Alfyn let out a cheerful laugh. “Seconded there! Man, I’m half tempted to head back to Clearbrook just to drag Zeph and Nina here for seconds!”

“My compliments to the chef,” Cyrus added, raising his glass in a pseudo-toast. “It was most delectable.” 

“I’ll be sure to pass your compliments along,” the woman replied. “Might I ask who we’ve had the pleasure of serving tonight?”

“Theri-” Therion felt a weight on his foot, pushing down. Coincidentally, Ophilia’s staff seemed to be tilted at a strange, almost specifically-directed angle, right near where his foot was. Therion sighed, then tapped on his badge, his voice a stilted monotone. “I am Captain Therion of the Orsterra Criminal Tracking Organization for the Protection of All Territories Herein.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Ophilia continued for him. “May we ask for your name as well?”

“Primrose,” the woman replied. “But my, my. I don’t believe I’ve heard of...the Orst-”

“Just call it OCTOPATH,” Therion grumbled. “It’s easier on all of us.”

“Very well. I don’t believe I’ve heard of OCTOPATH before.” Primrose, leaned in closer, eyes seemingly locked on Therion. “Perhaps you could tell me a little more about what you do? Over a drink, maybe?”

Before Therion could even begin to process what Primrose was suggesting, Tressa (bless her idiotic soul, he thought) cut in. “Pull up a chair!” 

Primrose blinked. “...pardon?”

“Yes, yes, have a seat,” Cyrus offered. “I’d imagine that waiting on so many tables would grow tiring after a while. We’d be delighted to have you, even if for a brief while.”

Primrose took a step back. “I’m...afraid there’s been a misunderstanding,” she said, a bewildered tone to her words. “I’m-I’m not a waitress.”

“Really?” Ophilia asked. “We greatly apologize, then! We didn’t mean to assume.”

“Yes, well…” She crossed her arms, glancing nervously around the room. “That’s not usually the first guess our guests make of my profession.”

“What do you do, then?” Alfyn asked, taking another bite of his steak. “If’n you don’t mind the question.”

“Well...” Primrose began, returning her gaze to the group. “You see, I-”

A gasp suddenly left her lips, her eyes widening as her focus shifted to something behind the group. Her hands balled up into fists, trembling like they had been subject to terrible cold.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” a gravelly voice piped up, with the sound of coins clinking on a table arriving soon after.

Therion barely caught a glimpse at the owner of the voice out of the corner of his eye: a man shrouded head-to-toe in a dark black cloak.

He was going to ask Alfyn if this was the man he saw earlier in Clearbrook.

He was going to interrogate the man if so, seeing what he knew, or if he still had it in his possession.

He was going to do a lot of things.

That was before Tressa blurted out “That’s the guy!” and leapt up from her seat.

That was before Cyrus whipped out one of his mage tomes, the pages flipping and electricity crackling.

That was before Ophilia had the chance to go “Wait, you two!”

But that was right when Alfyn said what he, Therion, and no doubt Primrose (given her earlier reaction) were thinking.

“Aw, shucks. This ain’t good.”


End file.
